


Something With Clovers

by Twentyonedaydreams



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Clovers, F/M, Fluff, I Hope This Is Okay, Prompt Fill, Sherlolly - Freeform, War AU, mollock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twentyonedaydreams/pseuds/Twentyonedaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock enlists in the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something With Clovers

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill for a friend. She simply said "Something with clovers"   
> I'm really bad at summaries, sorry.

 The sound of an explosion fractured the eerie silence of the battlefield. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Three days they had been under attack. The enemy kept missing. And Sherlock's men were planning a surprise attack. They wouldn't suspect a thing. He brushed the dirt that had fallen from the roof of his trench off of the pad of paper. He was scrawling out the tenth page of a letter back to someone at home. He hoped he could wrap it up soon, but there was so much he had to tell Molly.

_Molly._

It had been months since he had seen her. So long, that the dirt started to look like her brown hair. It made Sherlock sick to look at, which was unfortunate, because he was surrounded by it in the trenches. Especially in his makeshift office. Sometimes he was sure the walls were closing in more, and he would drown in the memories of brighter days.

Sherlock missed Molly so much that it hurt to breathe in the air. It might have been partially due to the gunpowder that fancied lingering, but Sherlock knew it ran deeper than that. He saw Molly's dark brown eyes in the bitter coffee he could barely keep down each morning. He longed to hold her in his arms again, and see her eyes light up with a smile. He preferred the bright sunlight of that country to the gray skies of the trenches. Her laugh rang in his ears, but was turned to gunfire.

John Watson came in while Sherlock was thinking. He cleared his throat and saluted.

"We're almost ready to move on Sir." He said, trying to read Sherlock's expression. John was the best doctor they had, and was usually able to diagnose a case of insanity before it got out of hand.

"Good. Well, thank you for letting me know." Sherlock turned back to the sheets of paper in front of him.

"Yes. Well. Sir, uh. Are you, well, are you alright? You seem a bit...distant."

"I'm fine." Sherlock replied, a little too quickly. It was clear that he was trying to convince himself rather than the doctor.

"Okay. Well, I'll give you the signal when we leave."

"Thank you."

John left Sherlock with his thoughts. His mind drifted back to that field.

It was May. He was happy. Molly had just agreed to start seeing him, and they ended their picnic in a field of clovers. They looked at the sky and watched the clouds morph into different shapes. He felt like a kid again. He tried to remember what she had said. But all he could remember was when she had rolled over to look at him.

"What?" He asked, smiling at her face. It was twisted with worry.

"You're leaving soon." Her brows were pulled together in worry, and she couldn't meet his eyes.

"Yes. And?" Though he knew perfectly what she meant.

"What if you don't come back? What if I'm stuck with that greasy haired pharmacist, because the person I really wanted to be with died in the war? What if our children have unibrows and uneven teeth? You don't think of these things when you enlist to be a captain!"

Sherlock laughed and brought Molly into a hug.

"I will come back to you. I will not let a little war get in my way. Not even this could keep me from you." He felt her smile against his cheek.

"Well, you're still going to need a little luck." And with that, she sprang up. They searched the rest of the afternoon for a four leafed clover.

When she found one, she made him kneel.

"I give you this, to bring you good luck. And as a promise. As long as you have this, you have to come back to me. Or let the leprechauns beat you to death with their gold."

"Isn't that last bit a little harsh?" He had asked, raising his head and smirking.

"No. You have to come home." She was smiling, but her lip quivered. Her eyes were brimming with tears. "Please Sherlock." Her voice broke, and she closed his fingers over the clover. He stood and kissed her.

With shaking hands, Sherlock pulled the wilted clover out of his pocket. It was pressed between a picture of Molly and a letter from her. The one where she said she loved him.

The tears came, and it was no use hiding them. Sherlock heard the frantic signal from the doctor, and he gathered his few belongings. They were going home.

 

Two weeks later, Molly was reading a letter through tears. She had kept this one, slept with it under her pillow, read it before she went to bed, and when she woke up. She had it memorized, but she found the scrawled handwriting comforting.

Her second cup of tea and third read through of the letter was interrupted by a knock on the door. She stood to answer it, wiping at her eyes and sniffing. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

 _"Sherlock."_ she breathed.


End file.
